Pie Crust Promises
by durancedurance
Summary: "That's a pie crust promise- easily made, easily broken." Sometimes people in love make mistakes, break promises. It's what you do to make things right that really matters. Mary/Bert but heavy on the angst.
1. Chapter 1

London, 1919

Her perfectly gloved hand had just barely grasped the neatly polished doorknob of Number 25 Petal Lane, her swift escape into the night so very close, before she heard a soft voice behind her in the dark.

"I've never known you to abandon a post," he said quietly, almost sadly she thought. She held onto the doorknob just a moment more before releasing it from her grasp and turning to address him.

"I never had a reason to," she answered honestly. Her blue eyes twinkled in the dark with an expression he couldn't read. It upset him somehow that he'd lost the ability to read her like an open book. He had his hands in his trouser pockets and he was leaning against the parlor entryway into the hall where she was at the front door of the house. His eyes never left hers.

"You have a reason to leave then? Without giving me a word of warning?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was clearly uncomfortable, but as always he attempted to exude an air of aloofness.

"Don't I?"

"You tell me, you're the one in charge, are you not? The one who's practically perfect. The one who's supposed to put my family back in order. Patch us up, right?"

There was no malice in his voice, and yet she flinched at his words. They weren't untrue, it was her duty and she had taken on the responsibilities knowing full well what she was getting into. Or so she thought. No, this particular task was proving to be much too difficult for her.

"I take it by your lack of an answer that I'm right," he sighed. "If my family is so far skewed that you were called upon, then you wouldn't just up and leave for no reason." She made no move, she had no answer for him. "So what is it then? What has you running out in the dead of night, presumably to never be heard from again? You do realize the children would be incredibly upset."

"They'd move on. They all do."

He closed his eyes, knowing she didn't just mean the children and she knew she'd hit a nerve. It was harsh and she wished she hadn't been so blunt, but she wasn't really thinking straight in this moment. It was honest at least.

"That's just it Mary," he said, his voice just a whisper. "You only think that everyone moves on, but you're wrong."

"It's why I'm leaving Bert, I can't fix your family because I'm the reason it's broken in the first place," she nearly sobbed.

He moved from his post in the doorway and moved closer to her in the dark. The house was quiet, and his footfalls made no sound as he came to stand before her. Slowly he placed a hand on her cheek, and she closed her eyes at the contact.

"There's still time to fix everything darling," he whsipered. Mary felt his warm breath on her face and she could feel her knees turn to jelly. She hadn't been this close to him in years. "Don't leave me, stay and make this right," he said, and his lips met hers with a chaste and honest kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

_One month earlier_

"Felicity I just don't think this is necessary," Bert sighed, putting on his suit jacket and placing his tea cup in the sink.

"I don't see another option, I mean honestly Bert. We did well for as long as we could manage but there's just no alternative. You're incredibly busy at the factory, you come home at all hours," Bert flinched slightly at this remark, "and I'm always out and around the city tutoring. I have papers to grade and notes to go over when I get home, there just isn't anyone to look after Moira and Christopher."

"Felicity, sweetheart, I understand what you're driving at but I promised myself we'd never do this," Bert tried to argue as he put the newspaper in his briefcase. Felicity was cleaning up the remnants of her children's breakfast as she continued to press the issue.

"Everyone has nannies Bert, I'm sure the children will be fine. We just can't go on spread so thin anymore. They'll be hoodlums if we don't have _someone _keeping an eye on them," she exclaimed as she put the kettle on for more tea.

"If I remember correctly, you fell for a so-called 'hoodlum'," Bert smiled in memory as he came over to his wife and stood behind her post at the stove. She smiled back and turned around to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Yes I did, but now he's a very important man with a very large factory to run and he's going to be late if he doesn't get his hoodlum behind out the door soon."

"Do you really think we need a nanny sweetheart?" Bert asked, squinting one eye in disdain.

"Yes we do, now scoot," Felicity slapped him playfully with the dish towel she'd been holding. "I'll take care of it before I leave to tutor this afternoon. We can't keep asking Delaney to watch the children, at least, not if you want food on the table when you get home."

"Fine," Bert gave in finally, if not reluctantly. He had hoped this day would never come, but if his children were in need of a nanny, so be it. Bert grabbed his hat from the hatstand in the hall on his way out the front door, whistling to himself as he went.

Felicity let out a long sigh after she heard her husband's whistling slowly fade away. She never did break him of that particular habit. He whistled all the time, and it nearly drove her insane at times. She wasn't sure if a nanny would really solve her situation. True, both she and Bert had become incredibly busy as of late, but that was only one part of the problem. As Moira and Chris, ages 5 and 7 respectively, grew older, she found that she and Bert grew more distant. As the years wore on she felt him slipping. To be fair, she felt herself slipping as well. She did her best to be a loving wife, but she felt that very soon her facade would fall away entirely and he would realize she was incredibly unhappy.

Felicity Caldwell had long since disappeared, and the now married mother of two, Felicity Alfred, suddenly wished more than anything that she could bring her back.

* * *

Mary had just completed an assignment in the south of France. Though the country was gorgeous, she longed for home, and was happy to see that the winds had decided to bring her back to London for her next assignment. Though Mary was fluent in most any language, she had been growing weary of the task of speaking French, even if Cozette was a darling girl. She was sad to leave her, but then, Mary was sad to leave any child she cared for.

The skies were calm all the way to London, and she looked down through the clouds she rode upon to see the city blinking and shining in the evening air. Just seeing the Thames and the proud look of Parliament and Big Ben brought a smile to her face and a twinkle in her eyes. It felt good to be back, and she was excited to begin at her next post in the morning.

Bert wrestled his tie off and flung it in the general direction of where he had dropped his suit jacket and briefcase. He breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of London, the soot of the rooftop he now stood on, and the fresh evening air. Lately he'd made a habit of wandering around the city in old haunts before coming home. He told Felicity he was caught up with work, or going out with important investors, but he was lying. More often than not he wound up in the park or in his old home of the rooftops, taking solace in the chimneys. He didn't like lying to his wife, but he felt that if he didn't give himself this needed time to think and collect himself, he'd make even more mistakes. Bert loved Felicity, on some level, but it was getting harder and harder for him to believe that it was the right decision to have married her. He'd never leave her or the children, such a thought was simply deplorable, but there was no doubt that whatever spark he once had for her was gone.

Bert really did his best to keep his marriage intact, and as far as he knew Felicity was unaware of his current predicament. He just hoped that eventually, given some more time, he'd get back on track and perhaps return to the feelings he once had. While he sulked on the rooftops, mourning a life he'd long since left behind, the winds of change began to blow through London. He once knew these winds, and would have instantly known what they whispered, but this new Bert had long since forgotten what the gentle breeze that tickled his face meant.

Felicity sighed in the dark as she heard her husband attempt to quietly make his way down the hall. It was becoming a habit of his to come home at odd hours, but as of late she had let it slide. Tonight she got up and padded to the door, poking her head into the hall.

"Bert," she hissed, and he spun around in the dark at hearing his name called.

"Sorry sweetheart, didn't mean to wake you."

"What were you doing?"

"Just business, nothing to worry about. Go on back to bed," Bert whispered. The nursery was between Felicity's and his room. They'd taken to sleeping in different beds and different rooms not long after they decided two children were quite enough, though somehow the divide felt larger this night.

"I've put an advertisement in the paper for a nanny," Felicity said, changing the subject and trying not to press the issue of her husband's late night business.

"Thanks," Bert said, attempting to smile. He opened the door to his room slowly, trying not to wake his children. "Now go back to sleep sweetheart."

"Goodnight Bert."

"Night Fee."

* * *

"Mummy I'm hungry," Moira whined. She was sat at the table, ready for breakfast which had not quite made it yet. Chris was keeping himself busy by making noises and pushing a toy car around in circles on the table beside his younger sister.

"I know dear but Delaney isn't done with your porridge yet and I'm afraid you're just going to have to wait," Felicity said idly as she organized papers. "Christopher please leave your toys before coming to the table. You know better."

Moira continued to become distressed and she decided to start slamming her spoon on the table, prompting Chris to increase in volume his 'vrooom' noises. Felicity was too busy trying to gather her things before heading out to tutor for the day, she would be late if she didn't hurry, and she hoped that perhaps her husband could corral the children. Thankfully, just as Moira and Chris began to grow unbearably loud, Delaney came in to the dining room with breakfast.

"Oh thank the lord," Felicity sighed.

"Oh well don't thank me," Delaney grumbled good-naturedly to herself as she gave the children their meal.

Finally Felicity deemed herself prepared and she stood up to put on her coat, checking herself in the hall mirror. Bert called down from the landing of the stair to his wife.

"Fee sweetheart I've got to run, please tell me you're not tutoring until this afternoon-"

"Bert I have to get going-"

"Better not ask me to do it mum," Delaney chimed in with a warning from the kitchen.

"Bert you knew I had tutoring early on Tuesdays-"

"Is it only Tuesday?" Bert grumbled, fumbling with his tie as he came all the way down the stairs. Suddenly the doorbell rang.

"Oh bother," Felicity said, turning from the mirror to frown at the door.

"I've got it," Bert said, swiftly making his way from the stair to the door with his long stride.

Bert swung open the large oak door, preparing to shoo away whoever happened to be calling on them at this particular hour. Instead, his mouth hung open in amazement as the woman he'd been trying to forget for the last 8 years stood before him. Apparently she hadn't been expecting him to be standing before her either, seeing as her striking blue eyes were open wide in shock and her gloved hands gripped her carpet bag as tightly as possible to steady herself.

The pair merely stared in shock and awe at one another for a moment until Felicity piped up.

"Bert, who is it?"

"It's-" Bert began but she beat him to the punch, wiping all previous emotion off of her face and swiftly waltzing past him into the hall of his home.

"Mary Poppins mum," she declared, voice confident despite being the exact opposite. Felicity merely stood confused. "I've come in answer to the advertisement. I do believe you're in need of a nanny."

Felicity looked at Bert, but he was busy staring at the floor. His face was full of emotions she couldn't quite read. She could hear her children noisily shouting in the dinig room, no doubt destroying it with porridge as soon as Delaney had made her way back to kitchen. If she didn't leave soon she'd be late to tutoring and her client would pay only half. Seeing no other option, she seized at the chance.

"Yes of course, do you have references? I hate to put you to work straight away, we can look them over later-"

"I make it a rule never to give references mum. And it's no trouble at all, I can see you both are quite busy. We'll discuss my employment more this evening," Mary said congenially, making it clear that she was to be hired immediately. Bert looked up to lock eyes with Mary. He gave her a forlorn look, then made his way out the front door without a word. Felicity didn't have time to argue with the woman taking charge in her hall, it was fate she had arrived to help them at all.

"We're so very grateful Mary Poppins. The children should behave for you, they really are sweet," Felicity smiled as she picked up her bag of papers and books again, making to follow her husband out the door.

"I'm sure we'll get on fine," Mary smiled, nodding that Felicity may take her leave. She rushed out the door, and as soon as it clicked shut, Mary's polite smile fell. "Oh Bert," she whispered sadly to herself, "what's become of you?"


	3. Chapter 3

The children behaved, surprisingly, and Mary could easily see the traits both of them had inherited from their parents. In Moira's eyes she could see Bert's. Young Chris had gorgeous red curls atop his head that clearly came from his mother. They were relatively tame, and she saw in them the good nature of both parents. They warmed up to Mary immediately, and there was no skepticism in their faces as they watched her unpack her things, simply awe. She knew they had gotten that from Bert. No questions or doubt, just surprise and excitement. As they played together in the nursery, Mary's thoughts turned to Bert.

She knew she hadn't shown up to fix the children, she had been summoned because she had to save a marriage. The tension was immediate when she had come into the home, although to be fair, her presence was probably startling to Bert. It was certainly a surprise for Mary. No, she had not returned to piece back together a family. She was here to piece back together a marriage, so that a family couldn't fall apart. This was more, often than not, Mary's task- in order to help the children of a home she worked for, she must help the parents. But to help Bert was another thing entirely.

Mary hadn't seen Bert in over 8 years, and it was a shock to find herself in the nursery of his home, watching his two children. A part of her was happy for him, and yet, knowing that he wasn't happy with his lot was terribly upsetting. In a way, this was exactly what she had expected him to do with his life, to move on, to marry and raise a family...but when she envisioned his future he had always been incredibly happy. Seeing that things weren't so made it hard for Mary to deal with. It made her decision 8 years ago seem shallow. It made her promises empty, broken.

Eventually Mary heard Felicity return home in the late afternoon, finished with tutoring. She entered the nursery and was surprised to find that the children were happy and occupied with their toys, and that Mary had already made herself comfortable. Felicity asked that she join her for a cup of tea in the parlor.

"So tell me Mary Poppins, how were the children today?" Felicity smiled as she daintily stirred milk into her tea.

"Wonderful. They're amazing children," Mary smiled. It was true, she admired how charming Bert's children had turned out. They hadn't been any trouble at all.

"Now you said earlier you didn't believe in references, so I suppose that business is done. Besides, you've already settled in and I couldn't be happier that you've joined our household. I don't tutor for very long on Wednesdays so how does every third Wednesday off sound?"

"The best people give every second Tuesday," Mary replied, sipping her tea.

"Well I suppose..." Felicity struggled. She hadn't hired a nanny before and wasn't sure what the protocol was. "And your wages-"

"I'd prefer to let them accrue for a while," Mary stated.

"Well I suppose that's fine-"

"Excellent. Now I understand that you are a tutor," Mary began, settling her stay and now trying to get a feel for the woman that Bert had chosen to wed.

"Yes. I tutor children of all ages, all over the city," Felicity said. She was definitely perky, and was very kind. "I love teaching children, it's very fulfilling for me to see them learn and to grow."

Mary smiled and sipped her tea in thought. So, he had married a woman who worked with children and helped them to learn and grow. How ironic. Or was it intentional? She wasn't sure, but it somehow bothered her. Besides this fact, Felicity was quite different from Mary. She seemed incredibly domestic, and what was the right word...complacent? She was polite, warm, kind, but if Mary was being honest, she seemed sort of boring. No spark of adventure or mischeif. Mary supposed she made for a great wife though- obedient and soft, the epitome of a lady. Perhaps that was the key. Perhaps it was what he had wanted all along.

"I'm sure you enjoy it immensely," Mary agreed, shaking herself from her thoughts. "And your husband, I only saw him briefly-"

"Oh yes, Bert. I'm afraid he's an incredibly busy man these days," Felicity sighed. Mary could see this fact greatly annoyed her. "He's in charge of a rather large factory just outside the city. They manufacture all sorts of metal parts and whatnot. They were very busy during the war, now I think they mostly make things for the rail and other odds and ends. I'm not sure, he doesn't talk about his work much."

Felicity sighed again, and Mary wasn't sure if she was upset that he didn't, or something else was hidden in the meaning. "It sounds interesting enough."

"I suppose so," Felicity smiled. "He didn't really become a businessman until after he was done serving in the war."

"He fought in the war?" Mary gasped. She had no idea Bert had joined the fray, though most men did at the time. To her knowledge, there wasn't a scratch on him, at least that she could tell.

"Oh yes," Felicity said, her face clouding over. "He only went into battle a few times, thankfully. He was better use to them helping to build and design things for the war. He's so good with his hands, and was knowledgeable in most anything. It's how he wound up running the factory."

Mary relaxed, knowing that he hadn't been in too much danger, despite the fact that the war was over. She had no idea what sort of toll war had had on him, or on Felicity. Mary wanted to probe further and ask about his artwork or the fact that he had once been a sweep, but she refrained. It wasn't her place, and Felicity didn't need to know she knew Bert at all.

"Well I'm sure I'll get to know him more as time goes on. The children told me how fun he is," Mary smiled. Moira had said that her father gave her horse rides around the nursery, but now that he was busy at the factory she didn't get them as often. "When he's here," Mary amended. True, the marriage was the thing mostly at stake, but Bert and Felicity did seem much busier than need be.

"Oh he's great fun, and splendid with the children. He's just having a hard time keeping up and being in charge of a whole factory now. We haven't really had time to adjust."

"All in due time," Mary said before polishing off the last of her tea. She and Felicity cleaned up, and Mary made her way back to the nursery to see that the children were fed before she saw them off to bed.

Later that evening, just as the children had fallen asleep, Mary slipped out of the nursery to get one last cup of tea to have while she read before bed. As she slowly and quietly closed the nursery door, she could hear voices arguing in the parlor below.

"I think she's simply wonderful Bert, she handled the children very well and went to work straight away."

"I don't know Felicity I just don't think it's a good idea-"

"Bert we've already had this argument. We can't continue without a nanny and I don't see why you have an issue with Mary Poppins.

"I don't have an issue with her I just think-"

"Give her some time," Felicity said, cutting off Bert and attempting to end the argument. "Just let her stay on for a while and if she doesn't work out you can let her go."

"Fine! Fine, ok?"

"I don't understand Bert, why is everything so difficult for you now? You can't agree with me on anything and you're still coming home at odd hours-"

"I have work-"

"Do not lie to me anymore Bert. I don't know what you're doing but you're going to hurt this family-"

"I would never hurt you Felicity," Bert whispered, sincere. "Or the kids. You know that. Please just, just hang in there Felicity I've been in a rut and I'll come around."

"I'm just so tired of this Bert," Felicity pleaded.

"I know sweetheart. But we have to try and work on things. We have to. For them."

"I know. I know."

Mary knew the conversation was over, and she cleared her throat noisily as she began to descend the stairs. Felicity looked up at Mary as she entered the hall, clearing her face of all the emotion of her argument with Bert.

"Oh Mary Poppins, are the children in bed?"

"Yes mum, sound asleep. I'm just getting myself a final cup of tea before bed. Excuse me," Mary said, hoping to slip into the kitchen without causing more of a fuss.

"First Mary Poppins, please, come meet my husband properly," Felicity smiled, gesturing for Mary to come into the parlor. Mary smiled back, trying her best not to look skittish. In truth, she wanted to pick up her skirts and run in the other direction. She swallowed and walked into the room, Bert's eyes following her the whole way.

There she was, standing in his parlor. He spent the entire day at work attempting to convince himself that it wasn't real. That she hadn't showed up on his doorstep that morning. That he hadn't just hired her to nanny his children. But no, she was real, and she was standing right before him.

"Hello Miss Poppins," Bert said, trying his hardest to force a smile. It felt strange on his face.

"Please, call me Mary," she said, smiling back. Her eyes twinkled mysteriously, and Bert felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't seen her in so long, he'd nearly forgotten how enchantingly blue they were.

"All right then, Mary," Bert said, his smile actually turning into a legitimate grin, one that tugged up high on one side. Mary had missed that grin. "It's a pleasure having you on board."

"The pleasure's all mine sir," Mary replied.

Somehow they both smiled wider. There was something so incredibly strange about Bert being Mary's employer that both of them couldn't help but find it amusing. Like a joke shared only between the two of them, which wasn't entirely untrue. It felt like somehow the world had been turned upside-down.

"We really are glad you could start on such short notice. I just know the children will behave for you," Felicity smiled, unsure what silent conversation was passing between Mary and Bert. It seemed as if perhaps they had met before. Felicity knew that was impossible, but the way Bert reacted that morning was very odd. She decided that she was simply tired, and shook it off. "Well I've had a very long day and I am retiring to bed. I'm sure if Bert has any more instructions for you he'll let you know. Won't you dear?" Felicity smiled encouragingly. Bert was usually more talkative and jovial, always trying to make people feel welcome. He seemed rather stiff this evening, previous argument aside.

"Oh um, yes dear," Bert responded automatically.

"Goodnight Mary Poppins," Felicity smiled.

"Goodnight."

Mary watched as Felicity went upstairs to go to bed. Bert's eyes never left Mary. After a few moments she decided to speak up.

"Are you simply going to stare at me all evening?" Mary chided, turning her gaze back to Bert. He looked so lost, so hurt and confused. It was hard to see him like this.

"I'm still trying to convince myself you're real," Bert whispered.

"I assure you, I'm not a figment of your imagination."

"Do you know how long it's been Mary?" Bert asked, suddenly very tired.

"I'd say a little over 8 years now," Mary said, looking down at the floor. "Long enough for you to start a beautiful family."

"Mary-"

"They really are beautiful. Very intelligent and well-behaved. They hardly require supervision at all-"

"Mary please-"

"So I find it rather interesting I've been employed here at all. It almost feels as if the wind is playing a rather cruel joke on me," Mary stated, looking up from the floor into Bert's eyes.

"I know why you're here Mary," Bert said sadly. He put his hands in his pockets.

"I do too Bert," Mary replied. "I hope I'm up to the task."

"I know you heard us earlier. Please, I want to do right by Felicity."

"You know my magic only goes so far..." Mary warned.

"I know," Bert smiled, more at himself than anything. "Let's not talk about why you're here. How are you?"

Mary was slightly taken aback. She thought he'd tell her to leave, to ask her to give him a quick solution to his problem, anything but ask about her own life. She thought he wasn't interested anymore.

"I'm...fine."

"Really?" Bert asked, daring her to answer differently.

"Yes really," Mary softened.

"Have your own family yet?"

"Bert, why would you-"

"Things change Mary."

"Do you think I'd be here looking after your family if I had one of my own?" Mary asked, beginning to get angry. This wasn't the Bert she remembered. He was somber and inconsiderate, and incredibly straightforward. She didn't like it.

"I don't know the answer to that," Bert shrugged.

"Honestly Bert, what happened to you," Mary whispered, changing the subject away from her. "I don't know who you are anymore."

"I don't either Mary," Bert replied sadly, and with that he turned and left the parlor, heading into the hall and up the stairs for bed. Mary silently watched him go, and a tear spilled down her cheek. Perhaps this task would finally be the one she couldn't complete.


	4. Chapter 4

After over nearly two weeks of watching Bert's children, Mary had finally calmed down. It was rather strange, living under his roof and tending to his offspring. A part of her really enjoyed it. Seeing him every day, after not seeing him for 8 years or so, was a welcome change. Mornings when they'd be the first ones up, and she'd make him tea and they'd smile at one another from across the table while the world woke from it's slumbers...it felt amazing. It felt natural and almost had a sense of deja vu to it. The simple fact that Bert was back in her life, in some capacity, was very comforting.

On the other hand, there were times where Mary couldn't stand being in his home. For every morning she shared quiet smiles over tea, there were mornings where Bert and Felicity were utterly infuriating. Half the time it annoyed her because they avoided each other's feelings, silently directing their anger and hurt at each other as they ate their breakfast. The other half of the time, they really tried, and these moments were the ones that somehow Mary couldn't stand. She knew she should be happy about them, for they meant there was progress in their relationship, but it was still hard for her to watch.

One evening as Mary came home from her day off , after seeing Uncle Albert and running a few errands, she had a particularly rough time. It was late and the children had no doubt already been put to bed. Mary entered the house and though the lights were low, she could hear Felicity giggling softly in the parlor. Mary paused in the entryway at the foot of the stairs, listening.

"...and Charlie tells me he hasn't hurt himself that bad since he fell down dancing at our wedding! Can you believe the man? What a mess!"

Felicity erupted again in a fit of giggles, as Mary heard the end of Bert's story. She was torn, happy for him that he had these moments with his wife where she knew he was happy, and yet upset that she now had to endure them in her everyday life instead of lying in bed and dreaming them up herself. After a moment she heard soft noises and more giggles, and she determined that she'd heard quite enough, making her way up the stairs in a flurry. She was breathing hard as she closed the nursery door as quietly as she could manage. Tears threatened to fall and began to sting at her eyes. She knew the promise she had made him, and was doing her best to keep it. She _must _keep it. But she'd be lying if she didn't admit that seeing him happy hurt her more than anything. Because the thing making him so happy wasn't her.

Luckily his children were absolute darlings. Though many of their traits definitely came from their mother, Mary could easily see the things they had inherited from their father. Their bright personalities and never-ending joy definitely came from Bert. Both Moira and Chris adored Mary and loved anything she did with them. While nannying for them was a delight, with holidays in the park and magical trips to get gingerbread, it still felt slightly wrong. It didn't seem right, taking Bert's children off on adventures without him. What's more, despite all the fun she had with the children, it made her wonder what a family with Bert...

No, she knew better than to think of that. She had promised him. Mary lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as these thoughts tumbled about in her brain. The clock on the wall told her in the dim moonlight that it was just nearing past two in the morning. The children were sound asleep, and Mary sighed heavily into the night. She needed to clear her head if she was going to get any rest, and so she decided to keep her brain busy with the task of making a cup of tea. After slipping on her robe and quietly making her way through the house, she began putting a kettle on in the kitchen, not bothering to turn on any of the lights.

Just as she put the kettle on in the dark, the light flickered on. She turned to see how it had come on, and she found a dishevelled Bert standing in the doorway. "Looks to me like we had the same idea," he smiled, a crooked one to show he was amused.

"Couldn't sleep," Mary said softly, pulling another tea cup out of the cupboard for him.

"Me neither," Bert replied, pulling up a chair at the small kitchen table. Mary felt awkward all of a sudden, standing in Bert's kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, especially after all the thinking she'd just been doing about him. Not to mention the fact that she was in her robe and her dark chestnut hair lay unpinned down past her shoulders. She pulled her robe tighter and wrapped her arms around herself as she leaned against the stove.

"Why can't you sleep?" Mary asked, feeling even more subconscious as Bert examined her, his eyes attempting to adjust to the bright light.

"S'not really important. Just can't seem to switch me brain off," Bert shrugged. Mary smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges. His cockney became more pronounced around her, and especially when he was tired. She found it odd that most of his accent had disappeared when she first started working at the house, but she quickly found that when it was just the two of them, he fell back into the same old patterns. "Wot about you then?"

"Oh, same problem really. Thinking too hard and unable to shut it all out." The tea kettle began to whistle, and Mary quickly took it off the stove so it wouldn't make too much noise. She poured herself and Bert a cup, and set his down in front of him before taking a seat across from him at the table.

"What were you thinking about?"

"I'd rather not say," Mary demurred, sipping her tea.

"Alright then, be that way," Bert pouted.

"You wouldn't tell me so why should I tell you?" Mary snorted.

"Well that's childish I must say."

"You're calling _me _childish?!"

"And apparently you're hard of hearing as well."

"Bert!" Mary chided, but she was laughing as she did so. She playfully smacked his arm from across the table. They both smiled, and the air was crackling with energy. After a moment they realized they were in trouble. Bert coughed and Mary stared into her tea cup. It was far too easy to fall into this trap.

"How are the kids getting on?" Bert asked quietly after a moment.

"Wonderfully, even if they miss their father," Mary whispered.

"Mary-"

"Don't apologize to me, you're a busy man, and I understand that."

"No Mary," Bert sighed. "I'm busy yes but it's not fair to them, and I miss them."

"Then Bert, why do you avoid your own home like the plague?"

"I don't avoid it like the _plague_," Bert huffed.

Mary's eyebrows arched and Bert had nearly forgotten how cute she looked when she was annoyed with you. With her eyebrows arched and her eyes twinkling in a way that wasn't playful but more of a warning that she wasn't to be toyed with. She had that uncanny ability to know when anyone was lying to her, and it was best to just come out with it before she got truly upset with you.

"Bert, you know better."

"I just...can't be here right now. I miss the kids, I do Mary. I have to provide for them too."

"Then talk to Felicity, perhaps she can spend more time tutoring and you can spend less time at the factory. You managed before-"

"We were broke before Mary," Bert sighed.

"Ah, but you were happy," Mary stated, effectively winning the argument. She sipped her tea in conclusion.

"I...guess we were happy. For a while anyway." Bert stared into his tea, lost to another time and place.

"You can be happy again you know. Your children need you Bert, they miss you."

"Nah they don't, they've got Mary Poppins as their nanny now. Wot could be better than that eh?" Bert smiled, but there was hurt in his eyes.

"A father," Mary said quietly.

Bert attempted to steer the subject away from himself again. "Chris told me you took them on an adventure to the jungle yesterday."

"Did he?" Mary purred, playing innocent.

"Oy now don't get coy with me Mary, I even caught ya going up the bannister tha' other day. Really, are you that careless around yer other families?"

Mary had to smile at that. His cockney was coming on even stronger as he got more irritated with her, and she knew he'd caught her going up the railing, and may have done it on purpose.

"I am _never _careless Bert," Mary said slyly. "And for the record, it's not as much fun taking children into picture books. I much prefer chalk drawings," Mary said as her face fell. "Why'd you give it up?"

Bert looked sad and sheepish. He wasn't actually irritated with Mary, he simply knew that not only was he missing out on adventures with his oldest and dearest friend, he was missing out on her going on these adventures with his very own children. "I had to, what with the war and all..."

"Oh Bert, I'm sorry-"

"No don't be. I was very lucky. Got me job at the factory to help with the effort and when I got drafted they only sent me up a few times. They learned I was pretty good with me hands and decided I should be helping them design and build things for 'em instead. When it was all over I was offered to stay on, have a bit more responsibility. Before I knew it I hadn't touched a bit of chalk or a chimney in years, I'm wearing suits ta work and making more money than I've ever had, became a proper gentleman with a home and a family, and you're on my doorstep coming in to fix my broken mess I've made of it. It all happened so fast really..."

"There's still time Bert, that's why I'm here at all..." Mary began, but she could see he wasn't listening. His eyes had clouded over and his brows were furrowed as he looked down at the table.

"You remember what you promised me?"

Mary tensed up and automatically took in a sharp intake of breath. It was as if she'd been punched in the gut.

"Not a day goes by where I don't think about it," Mary whispered quietly. "I understand that I've perhaps broken part of that promise, but you know I have no control over that-"

"I'm not blaming you Mary. I understand. But the rest of it..."

Mary sighed. "I promised you 8 years ago that I would always love you. That I would cherish you in my heart forever, but that we could never truly spend our lives together. I couldn't give you the life you wanted and so I promised that I would never enter your life again, and leave you to live a happy and fulfilling life with someone else. I promised you'd never see or hear from me again. I promised that no matter what happened, I'd never forget about our time together and that it would always have been enough for me, even if at the time it wasn't enough for you."

"And then you left..."

"And then I left. And as I said Bert I never meant to come into your life or your home-"

"But the wind doesn't always listen to you does it now?" Bert smiled sadly. Mary simply nodded her head in agreement.

"No it doesn't."

"Now I understand that you couldn't hold up that part of the bargain. But...the rest of it?"

"Yes...?" Mary asked, breathless. She wasn't sure where this conversation was headed anymore.

"Have you kept up that promise?"

"The one I made to always love you, or the one in which I stated it would always have been enough?" Mary stared into Bert's eyes. She felt like crying but she knew no tears would come. She had to stay strong, particularly in this moment. She had a job to do and she couldn't let sentiment right now of all times to muddle everything up.

"Both of them," Bert said as he looked long and hard into her icy blue eyes. Mary looked down at her hands and bit her lip, thinking back to that day so many years ago.

_"I don't know what you want from me! I can't understand why you're so upset with me right now!"_

_ "Mary it isn't that hard. You either love me or you don't," Bert was practically shouting at her._

_ "I do love you Bert. I love you more than anything but it doesn't mean I can just drop everything that I'm doing and stop being who I am-"_

_ "That's not what I'm asking you-"_

_ "Yes you are!" Mary was the one shouting now. "You're absolutely asking me that. You think I can just stop nannying? Stop listening to the wind, stop helping children in need and families who are broken? You think that I can just give up the life I've built for myself so I can settle down with you in a flat and be your wife?"_

_ "Yes I think ya can! Wot's so wrong with that? I love you Mary and I want ta be with you. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep watchin' ya leave and disappearing without a moment's notice ta 'oo knows where! I want to love you and be with you and raise a family with you and grow old with you by my side. I'm tired of waiting for you to come back to me, to have our stolen moments, to pretend you aren't mine when we're out in public or with your charges. I'm just tired of it Mary, aren't you?"_

_ The wind was whipping around Mary and her hair was blowing in her face. She gripped her umbrella hard, and tears were stinging at her eyes._

_ "So that's it then? It's either give up everything I am, everything I've achieved, to be with you, or not be with you at all?"_

_ "That's not what I'm saying Mary, you aren't listening to me. I love you the way that you are but I don't think I can keep sharing you with other families all the time. What about us? What about our family?" Bert pleaded, grabbing Mary's arm and trying pull her tight to him._

_ Mary yanked her arm away and picked up her carpetbag. Tears were now falling down her face as she turned to address Bert._

_ "I don't think we have a family Bert, and I don't think we ever will," she said coldly and calmly. "We want entirely different things and I can't give you what you're asking of me."_

_ "So wot then?" Bert asked, not knowing how to proceed in the argument now that they were at an impasse._

_ "I'll make you a promise. And if you know me as well as you think you do, then you'll know this isn't a pie crust promise. I never make those, and I never will..."_

Mary shook herself from the memory and blinked back tears as she looked up at Bert across the table. That was it, she had made her promise and then she hadn't seen him again until the very day she arrived on his doorstep, nearly two weeks ago. He was looking at her expectantly, and she braced herself before answering him.

"I've kept both of those promises, yes."

Bert looked into her eyes and studied her face intensely. True, he'd lost his ability to understand every facial feature, every note in her voice, but he was certain in this moment that she was telling him the truth.

"You still love me?"

Mary tensed up again, feeling that this was a trick question. Yes, she had promised to always love him, in some capacity. He needn't know that she'd never loved anyone as much as him, and never would. But yes, she loved him. Mary Poppins always kept her word, and she wouldn't start lying to him now.

"Yes," she breathed. He didn't even flinch, didn't move. His face gave away nothing.

"And is it still enough for you?"

Well, perhaps Mary Poppins _almost_ always kept her word. She had a duty, a job to do, and that was to do right by Bert and his family. She was there to fix them, not tear them apart. And she'd do her best to make things right. After all, if one white lie meant a happy family, then it was worth it. Wasn't it?

"Yes," she replied, trying her best to sound confident and sure. Bert studied her again, looking into her eyes, trying to find the lie there. He silently picked up his tea cup and took it over to the sink. He made his way over to the door and turned around as he stood in the doorway.

"It's not enough for me," he said quietly, before turning off the light and leaving the kitchen. Mary was in the dark once more, holding her empty tea cup as she attempted to steady herself. She suddenly knew that everything was wrong and yet somehow everything felt right. Her dearest friend, her one and only love, the one person she'd do anything for...was still in love with her. In fact, he'd probably never stopped loving her. His marriage and family were in danger and although Mary was only making matters worse, simply by being there, a small smile suddenly found its way onto her face. Somehow knowing that he'd never stopped loving her, still wanted to be with her, couldn't function as a father or husband without her, made her happy inside. She knew it was wrong but she couldn't even try and feel bad about it. And yet, her smile fell as she realized...her task at Number 25 Petal Lane was very nearly impossible. She sat in the dark as a wave of mixed emotions crashed over her. She quietly berated herself for her actions.

"What have I done?"


End file.
